


Gold Rush

by carolairdbelivet



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: F/F, First Meeting, One Shot, Slightly reimagined, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolairdbelivet/pseuds/carolairdbelivet
Summary: This is a take on what Therese might have been imagining the first time she saw Carol. Based on Taylor Swift's song "gold rush" off of her new album "evermore".
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	Gold Rush

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I haven't been writing here lately, but this is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head since I first heard this song, so I decided to give it a try. I just couldn't help but associate it with our two favorite ladies. The song also doesn't end particularly happily, so I took some liberties there. I hope you enjoy, and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! Also, if you haven't heard the song, I would definitely give it a listen after you read. Enjoy!

A baby crying. A woman asking her co-worker about a handmade toy fire truck for her son. The train set across the store thundering around its tracks. The elevator opening and then sliding shut a moment later. Children running, playing tag around the displays, screaming, laughing. The incessant _tap tap tap_ of her boss’s heels as she walks across the linoleum floor. There’s that train set again. A customer asking for help finding the bathroom. A doll giggling. The _zzzzzzip_ of a child’s coat. And then--wait. Something is different. Something is missing. It takes her a moment to realize: the train has stopped its usually never ending journey around its toy track. She turns away from the ribbons she’s been cutting to figure out why, and- _oh_.

The woman is tall. That’s the first thing Therese notices. Then her eyes. Gleaming. Twinkling. She is struck suddenly with the image of herself diving into a deep, dark ocean. It scares her, but in a way that makes her want more. The woman’s hair is perfectly in place, a golden halo surrounding her head, and Therese just knows she always looks this way, this perfect. _What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?_ she thinks. As suddenly as she was struck with the image of the ocean, she is transported to a room that doesn’t exist. She sees herself naked, padding across the wooden floor, her shirt hanging on the door, eager to meet the woman waiting for her in bed. Then she is at a dinner party with six faceless friends, sitting next to the woman, whose hand is on her thigh. She is turned towards her lover, playfully arguing about something that doesn’t matter enough for her to really hear it in her head. The woman is laughing, her head thrown back, unguarded. Then they are on a beach, walking hand in hand next to the water, laughing. It is cold. The woman pulls her close and says, in a voice Therese has never heard but that somehow still sends an invisible golden light through her entire body, “Let’s go home, Dearest. I’ll make some dinner for us.” She is filled with warmth at the thought. But then, as quickly as these snapshots of an entire life together came to her, they are gone, faded into a kind of grey fog, like day old tea, and she knows she is foolish. She knows it can never be. And then she is angry. She is angry that she would die to feel the touch of a woman she has never met. She is angry because she is sure everyone in this unnamed woman’s life wants her, wonders what it would be like to love her, the way Therese is now. She knows she has a tendency to idealize, to wear rose colored glasses and see the world in a kind of slow motion, with double vision. She hates this about herself. It is why she is so often disappointed by people. So she goes back in her mind to the folklore she has created of her bright, golden life with this golden woman, and intentionally splatters it with grey. There is no cozy room. There are no dinner parties. There is no coastal town. She can’t dare to dream about it anymore. It will never be.

She forces herself to turn away from the woman, from her gleaming, twinkling, dangerous ocean eyes, and from the future together Therese is trying to convince herself they can never have. She takes a breath. She almost jumped in. The slap of gloves on the glass display case startles her from her daze. She steadies herself, puts on her best customer service face, and turns around. _Oh_.


End file.
